We walked through Promontory Point with the caterer yesterday. It couldn’t have come a more necessary time. Stress levels were beginning to peak as the list of things we had to do the morning of the wedding continued to grow. A few days earlier, we were looking at this list, then at each other, back at the list, back at each other, and wondering if someone’s eloping brother hadn’t had the right idea after all.
Somehow in all this we had forgotten that we’d hired a caterer. And that we were going to pay them a lot of money. At the time we signed them on, the bottom line was so flabbergastingly high that I think we chose to put them out of mind until absolutely necessary. This was a tactical misstep, because it’s that big check that’ll get us all the help we need getting the venue set up and decorated before the ceremony, while Sarah and I relax, get dressed, and travel down to the wedding at a leisurely pace. Heck, if it’s nice out, we may even have time to ride our bikes down there and
shower cleanse ourselves in the lake beforehand.
In retrospect, we should be embarrassed to have gotten ourselves so stressed out. I have a meager excuse—I’ve never dealt with party planners before—but Sarah doesn’t. She’s hosted other parties; she should know how these things go. On the way home from our walkthrough, she told me the same thing happened with the last party she threw. The caterers were a little less gentle with her that time. “Listen lady, we’ve got it,” they said. “This is what. we. do.”
As controlling as we are, I’m happy to hand everything off to the caterer and let them own it. The less we have to worry, the better. I’m even willing to forget about finding a wedding project manager, a role I was certain we’d need to fill with a considerate friend or relative, so we wouldn’t have to run around during the wedding answering questions or solving problems. But, hey, it turns out we already have a project manager. Her name is Kim, and she’s the caterer. This is what she does.